Metanoia - Peter Pan OUAT

Chapter Thirty Three

A/N: I'll cry if this chapter flops.

The moment Pan had teleported himself with Metanoia and Jeremy's body, he could already feel the thick, tantalising tension befalling the Lost Boys as soon as they let their vision land on Jeremy. His green orbs momentarily gazed upon Jacob, who was stifling a sob, and taking slow, hesitant steps towards his lifelong friend and companion. Pan clenched his jaw angrily, and ripped Metanoia off Jeremy, who was clutching onto him while she silently cried, her tears a never ending waterfall upon her wet cheeks.

Grudgingly hauling the girl's weight against Theodore's chest, Pan grumbled, "Take her to the healing hut and keep her there until I'm back."

Theodore nodded stiffly, gently nudging Metanoia in the direction of the medical space Pan had created centuries ago, but Metanoia was thrashing in Theodore's grip, crying and yelling to be left alone with Jeremy. The second in command's heart shattered at the sight of her broken state, and his eyes briefly fell to her thighs, where her deep burns rested, and he swallowed thickly. She'd been traumatised in such a short span of time — being tortured, and her friend dying in front of her. It was a fate Theodore wished upon no one. He couldn't even bring himself to look back at Jeremy's body; he wouldn't dare. Jeremy was quite possibly the kindest Lost Boy among them all. Quiet, shy and mostly kept to himself. But he had a true heart of gold indeed. Pan kneeled down to place a firm hand on Jeremy's shoulder, and addressed the Lost Boys who stood before him. Theodore didn't linger to listen. He pulled Metanoia with him to the healing hut, and once they were inside, he attempted to wrap his arms around her waist, but Metanoia pushed herself off him harshly.

"No-" She hiccuped, taking a few steps back and away from him. "Don't comfort me. I don't deserve it."

Theodore's brows furrowed achingly. "Em, don't say that."

"Don't call me that!" She bit sourly, her voice raising in fury. "I can't have you calling me that - not when -" Metanoia's eyes welled up in tears again, her voice failing her upon remembering his last words.

"Not when what?" Theodore asked her gently, taking a very small step towards her which would go unnoticeable to her.

"Not when it's what he called me before he died." Metanoia whimpered, the tears falling again and spilling over her already damp cheeks. She shook her head slowly, her vision blurring. "Please. Please don't call me that."

"Okay." Theodore replied hastily, his worried hues breaking at the sight of the broken girl before him, and he took another small step closer. "Okay, I won't call you that, Metanoia. I won't."

Metanoia sniffled, her hands gripping the edge of the narrow bed behind her, her grimy nails digging into the mattress in sheer anxiety and helplessness, and she sobbed. "I could've saved him, Theo. I could've saved him - but I was too stubborn and it - it -"

She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. "It cost him his life."

Theodore shook his head adamantly, and finally reached her small figure. Cupping her cheeks with his palms, he replied, "You couldn't have done it on purpose, Metanoia. There's no way you could've known he would -"

Metanoia clenched her jaw angrily. "But I did!" Yanking his hands off her face, she heaved sorrowfully as she glared up at him. "I knew he was running out time, and I stretched the limits - and Jeremy got snatched away from me because of it. Theodore, I knew he was dying, and I didn't immediately jump to save him."

Theodore blinked once. Twice. Thrice, before he stepped back from her.

"I know you, Metanoia. You wouldn't purposely hurt anyone - especially those you care for." He uttered, his voice laced with denial.